


cover me up, cuddle me in

by leapylion3



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing Body Heat, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:58:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leapylion3/pseuds/leapylion3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Satin loves waking up next to Jon.</p><p>(Game of Ships prompts: Jon/Satin- body heat, fur)</p>
            </blockquote>





	cover me up, cuddle me in

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at slash...I hope it's okay! Constructive criticism is always welcome :)  
> Thanks to Char for the beta!  
> Enjoy xoxo

Satin always loves sharing a bed with the Lord Commander. Winters on the Wall are harsh and cold, and even though he’s named Snow, Jon is pleasantly warm. And not to mention quite handsome, too.

Satin loves waking up next to Jon. The mornings always make him vulnerable and he won’t resist to Satin’s touches. On the contrary- Jon easily succumbs to the ministrations and quietly begs for more with low growls in the back of his throat. He’ll cant his hips up in search for more friction, grinding into the bedclothes.

This is the only time Satin can be in control. Jon is the Lord Commander, while the former boywhore is merely his steward. Even in Oldtown, he had to accept following orders. But here…he is more experienced than Jon. He is in his element here, in the bedchamber, with Jon Snow _begging_ for him.

“Satin, I’m cold,” Jon murmurs, his eyes squeezed shut to block out the early morning light streaming in through the windows. “Come closer.” He groans and arches his back, screwing his eyes even tighter together, when Satin straddles him.

“Is this better?” Satin asks, his voice husky from both sleep and arousal. The furs feel wonderfully soft against the skin of his back, shrouding him with warmth. Goosebumps rise on every pore of his flesh when he feels Jon’s hardness digging into his hip.

Satin leans down and kisses him deeply, his tongue searching Jon’s mouth. The steward thinks that Jon has the prettiest mouth in the Seven Kingdoms, and he deserves to be kissed all the time. Satin is happy to oblige- he loves how pliable his mouth feels against his, and loves the gentle scratches against his cheeks from Snow’s beard.

It would be easy for Satin to pleasure Jon now, given the state of nakedness they’re already in from last night’s lovemaking. But Satin loves to tease his Lord Commander endlessly, and the fact that Jon _knows_ this and _enjoys_ it, even, excites the former boywhore. The sun is starting to rise, but Satin will keep Jon in bed for as long as he is able to.

Satin’s fingers wrap around Jon’s cock and he begins to stroke him at a slow pace. Jon’s head falls back onto the pillows, a faint cry of “ _more_ ” coming from his lips. “I think you should be warm enough by now, Jon,” the steward teases, leaning in for another kiss.

“You’re such a tease, damn you,” the Stark bastard grumbles, rocking his hips in time with the movement of Satin’s hand. Satin chuckles and pecks the Lord Commander on his forehead, running his fingers through Jon’s curly hair.

Heat floods the former boywhore’s body when Jon takes Satin’s cock in hand. Despite having been paid to pleasure, all of _this_ is new to him. The compliments, the endearments, the way Jon asks how _he_ likes it. It’s different. No one has ever taken the time to assure Satin’s enjoyment and warmth and safety. It’s scary, too, in a way, how much he feels cared for. And it’s even scarier how much he cares for Jon.

Satin comes first, after one look into Jon’s stormy grey eyes, cloudy and darkened with lust. Jon finishes soon after, spilling his seed into Satin’s hand. They don’t bother going to wash themselves; they collapse into each others’ arms, listening to each others’ breathing. The moment is too perfect, and would be ruined if one of them moved.

Satin’s face is buried in the crook of Jon’s neck, where he can hear his steady pulse. Everything is reassuring and comforting to him here; Jon’s presence, the feel of him against Satin, the sound of his breathing. The furs shroud them and Jon’s body is scorching hot against his.

If snow is cold, Satin wonders why Jon’s name is Snow in the first place.                 


End file.
